


on kings and earls of all degree

by nativemossy



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternative Universe - Kingdom, Aristocrat!Bucky, Assassination Plot(s), Community: trope_bingo, Falling In Love on The Run, M/M, Poisoning, Romeo and Juliet References, Sneaking Around, prince!Tony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-03-29 09:23:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19017046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nativemossy/pseuds/nativemossy
Summary: Marquess James of Buchanan was less than pleased to be attending this ball. A few days spent partying with members of the international peerage was not his idea of fun, especially when the ball was thrown with the intent to marry off the Crown Prince of Stark, a country that would like little to do with Buchanan. When he arrives there he finds far more than he bargains for, and his weekend plans transform from playing nice with the foreign dignitaries to attempting to help the Prince survive his attempted assassination.





	1. Enter, The Prince

**Author's Note:**

> Done to fill the "AU: Royalty/Aristocracy/Feudal" square for my bingo card. The whole fic is done, and it'll be posted over the next week or so. 
> 
> Big thanks to my betas (QueenMaeve, CinnamonAnemone, and ladygareth from the stuckony discord chat), as well as Margaritaville and summerpipedream on pf for the helpful tips on beating writers block. Another round of thanks to Simon, who sat for a good few hours in his basement telling me to write this instead of playing dumb mobile games on my phone
> 
> title is taken from The Ballad of The White Horse, by G. K. Chesterton, a great and long work that y'all will totally see from me again if i manage to get my cap-imbb fic done this year

          Bucky did his utmost to refrain from rolling his eyes as the big double doors swung open, revealing one of the more formal audience chambers in Buchanan's summer castle. He hovered in the doorway, figuring if Steve wanted to play this game he’d wait through all the formalities.

          A stout man dressed in all the modest finery of his position strode forward, bowing stiffly at the waist. “Announcing The Most Honorable, Marquess James of The Northern March.”

          Bucky really did roll his eyes that time, striding forward and past the announcer and into the chamber. He pulled a letter out of the interior pocket of his overcoat, raising an eyebrow askance at his childhood friend. “Judging by that incredibly formal introduction you’re going to want to see my summons? Do you need me to bow to you as well?”

          Bucky didn’t bother to restrain his grin when Steve stood up, making an affronted noise as he stepped away from the throne and down the dais. Bucky extended his hand for a shake, letting out an undignified huff when Steve used it to pull him into a fierce embrace.

          “I would apologize,” Steve began, speaking into Bucky’s forehead, unwilling to stop the hug to talk, “But you’ve been gone so long that I couldn’t be sure if you’d become any more attached to the title.” When he pulled back there was a broad grin on his face, making him look his age in a way the weariness around his eyes did not.

          “You know, if you wanted me home more you could just grant me a duchy of my own,” Bucky said, letting himself slip back into the familiar banter between them.

          “I would, but every time I try you reply that if you wanted a duchy so soon you’d just assassinate your father like every other respectable royal.”

          “Well, that all being said, you never had to make me a landed marquess.” Bucky shot back, feeling his grin widening with every word. “Considering the Mark you granted me I’d say that you’re trying to get rid of me.”

          It was well known in the kingdom (and those surrounding) that the Northern March was a fool’s errand to try to run. It changed hands every few years or so from its stewards either dying on the front or going mad from it all. Hydra, a group of hostile barbarians, had been attempting to make it through the wall since Bucky’s grandfather’s time. They weren’t terrifically skilled, but they were numerous. Steve had handed the March to him at Bucky’s request - he was young and cocky and convinced that he could take the territory, be rid of Hydra, and be home for the winter solstice. He quickly learned otherwise, but refused to let Steve hand it off to someone else. He felt like he had a duty to his men at the front to stick it out with them.

          “Only the best for my favorite cousin,” Steve began, eyes sparkling as he moved to sit on the steps before the throne, beckoning Bucky to do the same. “Old arguments aside, there is a real reason I pulled you away from your post to meet with me.”

          Bucky cocked an eyebrow in Steve’s direction, waiting for more. When Steve saw that he planned to listen he nodded to himself, then continued. “I’ve received a letter from the Stark Kingdom. The Crown Prince Anthony is having a suitors ball and I’d like you to attend in my stead.”

          Bucky nodded along, then paused, belatedly absorbing what Steve was asking. “You can’t be serious!” He exclaimed, resisting the childish urge to get up and pace about. “You pulled me away from a years-long border skirmish to attend a dinner party? Steve, did you think any of this through at all?”

          At this Steve straightened up, looking less like the muscled ghost of Bucky’s childhood friend and more like his king. Bucky found himself stiffening his posture as well, preparing to meet Steves bullheadedness in kind.

          “Yes, I did think this out, quite extensively in fact.” Steve began, staring Bucky down as he did. “I thought that my best friend has been fighting a fool’s war for years now, and could possibly use a moment to breathe. I thought that perhaps that friend, who I remember used to be fond of such dalliances, might enjoy a few nights of drinking and dancing far away from his post and responsibilities. Most importantly, I thought that friend of mine would be willing to take this one thing off my plate so that I could worry about possibly finishing that border skirmish of his once and for all.”

          Bucky found himself reeling, feeling at once both charmed and endlessly frustrated with Steve. Trust him to lay it all out like that, emotions and logistics all tangled up together like a bramble. Bucky heaved a sigh, narrowing his eyes as Steve frowned down at him.

          “Is there anyone else you could send?” He questioned, feeling nervy at the thought of leaving the front, even for just a few days.

          “Nobody I trust. Not like you.”

          “Any way that we could beg off?”

          “Not unless you want us to continue being considered rude and brash foreigners.”

          Bucky sighed, scratching at the base of his neck. “I suppose if my King commands it then I should go, huh?”

          Steve grinned a small, private thing. “Perhaps so.”

          They sat in silence for a long moment, neither sure what to say or how to say it. Bucky eventually sighed, then stood. He extended his hand to help Steve up, grunting from the sheer weight of the man.

          “When is it?” He questioned, still grasping Steve’s hand tightly.

          “A week from now, I’ve got a coach waiting for you outside.”

          “Well then, I’m off.” He said, wincing when Steve looked hurt. “Steve, I’m not angry, but if I’m actually going to represent our kingdom as a dignitary I need to look a little less like I haven’t left my post in three years, and I really don’t have much time to do so.” The travel time would take nearly the entire week before the ball; Bucky kind of wanted to shake Steve for the last minute feel of all of it.

          At that Steve released his hand and Bucky began to walk away, trying not to tread too heavily. “No amount of shaving is going to make that mug of yours any prettier!” Steve shot back, nearly doubling over with laughter when Bucky turned to shoot him a dirty look.

          "Yeah? That crown doesn't make your head look any smaller!" Bucky replied, extending one arm in an incredibly filthy hand gesture. He left grinning at the sound of Steve’s scandalized laughter echoing through the hall.

* * *

 

          Bucky had been quite warmly welcomed at Stark Palace, despite the Kingdom Buchanan’s rocky relationship with them. He was taken to a lovely set of apartments, and was provided with a light lunch to precede the opulent dinner that followed a few hours later. Though, after a while of entertaining himself with the books in his room (all dull, meandering descriptions of war histories and trade agreements) he found himself bored, feeling tense and inactive after a week spent riding in a carriage.

          Wandering the halls of a foreign castle had seemed like a entertaining, if unadvised, choice. The relationship between Stark and Buchanan was uneasy already, he really didn’t need to cast further suspicion on himself by being caught wandering the halls. That said, he had found himself roaming around the the more remote halls of the castle, hoping to avoid any and all contact with others.

          “So this should be tasteless then? Completely undetectable?” James heard a baritone voice escape from a door he just passed. He paused, tilting his ear towards the noise.

          “Absolutely, even the Prince’s discerning palate won’t be able to sense it. If you slip it in his brandy tomorrow evening he’ll be dead before dawn.”

          Bucky felt himself stiffen with alarm, stiffening before approaching the door on silent feet. He checked up and down the hallway before stooping down, putting his face against the door. Through the keyhole he could just begin to see the parlor; a roaring fire was framed by two chairs and a table that held a chessboard and a small stoppered bottle filled with a clear liquid. He could hear two men but only saw one - the man he knew to be the King Regent Obadiah Stane.

          He restrained his urge to storm in and demand they turn themselves in for treason, knowing that if he did the prince would surely die and Bucky would never return home. He waited with bated breath, hoping for more information.

          “Excellent. I would advise you to stick around through the aftermath, so as not to raise suspicions.” The regent said, striding forward to rest a hand on the shoulder of the man hidden. “You’ve done very well to get this. I’ll be sure to reward you handsomely for it.”

          Bucky stepped away from the door, too nauseated to listen to the reply. He had heard everything he needed to know. He moved to retreat, then paused, considering his options. Even if he did alert the Prince, there was no reason for him to trust Bucky. He’d need proof, something tangible that Obadiah wouldn’t miss.

          He heard the shifting of fabric and panicked, assuming that the pair was getting up to leave. He looked around frantically, finally opening the nearest door he found to hide inside. As the door clicked softly shut he heard the study door swing open, the hinges squeaking slightly. No parting words were spoken, but he listened as two pairs of footsteps echoed down the halls until he could hear no more. After a generous pause for either to return for something forgotten he opened the door, darting across the hall to the now abandoned study. He entered cautiously, minding his step as he navigated in the fading light of the embers in the hearth.

          Bucky made a beeline for the desk, scanning quickly with his eyes. He didn’t see the little glass bottle, but he saw a folded stack of papers near the corner of the desk. He snagged them, quickly scanning the words while trying to keep his hands steady. Buried in the middle of a tax statement and commission orders was a seemingly innocuous paper, though upon a closer look he realized with glee it was exactly what he needed.

          He wasn’t sure what it said of Obadiah that he kept a purchase receipt of poison, but the damning evidence was all there. His name, the name of the concoction, and the truly ridiculous price he paid for it were all laid out in ink, plain as day and twice as bold. If Bucky were a villainous bastard he would have burned the evidence and everyone involved with it, but judging by the neatly sorted stacks of papers, and Obadiah’s reputation as ruthlessly scrupulous, he was making the assumption that this was some kind of reference for later. Maybe there was a plan for a whole string of nobles to be poisoned; it was really hard to say. Perhaps the reason was really so simple as Obadiah was planning on burning it later.

          He quickly extracted it from the pile, returning the remaining papers to approximately where he found them. Once it was folded and tucked snugly into his waistcoat he turned on his heel, being as careful to toe lightly back to the door as he was when he entered.

          He realized as he was sneaking through the corridors that there was only really one place to go with this information - and that was to the prince himself. That was easier said than done, considering that his guard had to have been doubled what with all of the foreigners residing in the castle for the ball. Bucky owed it to the poor guy to try at least, even if it would likely end in his death or imprisonment.

          His musings brought him to an opulent courtyard, with carved marble fountains made into glowing specters by the moonlight. He could just barely see the outlines of perfectly maintained hedges, and he was almost certain that lining the paths were numerous flowers.

          He happened to glance up, seeing an expansive balcony jutting out from the facade of the palace. He paused, taking a moment to trace his way through his mental map of the palace - that was admittedly a bit spotty because of the brevity of the tour. It would be just his luck that he ended up in the King’s private gardens, one of the few places the guests were instructed never to enter.

          Also, coincidentally, a very convenient way to gain access to the Crown Prince without any guards spotting him.

          Scaling the wall was relatively easy, as far as climbing went. He had done much more strenuous work, though that didn’t mean he wasn’t doubled over catching his breath when he was done.

          “I’m never one to complain when there’s a very attractive fellow on my balcony, but what the hell?” A frightened voice demanded, startling Bucky into jumping back. Heart pounding, Bucky looked up, momentarily dazzled by the beauty in front of him. He was barefaced, his youthful eyes framed by tousled curls. The pale light washed most of the color from him, but Bucky could tell from the weak light of his room that his skin had seen its fair share of the sun - very uncommon for a noble as high as he. When Bucky had the wherewithal to glance away from his face he noted that the man was in his nightclothes. He looked away, feeling his face heat in what was surely a bright red blush.

          “Uh, hello? Assassin?” The man - no - the Crown Prince asked, waving a hand in front of Bucky’s face. “You’re pretty new at this, huh?”

          Bucky snapped to action, kneeling down as quick as he could. He saw the prince flinch away, feeling terrible for how frightening this must be for the poor guy.

          “Your Majesty,” He began, grasping for words as what felt like every lesson in court manners fled from his mind. “Begging your pardon for this, uh, incredibly untoward introduction. I come with terrible tidings.” Bucky didn’t dare look up, both out of respect and a fear that one more look at the man would tie his tongue once again. “I’m afraid there’s treachery afoot within your castle. Your King Regent has conspired to kill you before the festivities have ended.”

          Prince Anthony made a scoffing noise, almost laughing in his incredulity. “Obadiah?! The man is like an uncle to me - he practically raised me!” Bucky saw him shake his head out of the corner of his eye, his fear at the surprise visit from a stranger momentarily trumped by his disbelief. “I have half a mind to call my guards in here for such a comment alone!”

          “Please, your Majesty!” Bucky pleaded, raising his head to boldly make eye contact. “I have proof. Here-” He reached into his shirt, revealing the paper he had stolen from Obadiah’s office. The prince took it with little enthusiasm, scanning it quickly before gasping and reading it again. He got a lost look in his eye and stood there for a long moment, looking drawn and ill. When he returned to himself he blinked a few times, then looked down at Bucky.

          “What is your name?” He asked, tilting himself back to peer back into his apartments, likely confirming that nobody had entered looking for the reason the Prince was talking to himself.

          “Marquess James of the Northern March, your Highness.” He said, bowing his head again. These formalities were really grating, especially considering time was of the essence. “I’m representing King Steven of the Kingdom-”

          “Buchanan, yes I know you.” The prince shot over his shoulder as he strode into his chambers, leaving Bucky to kneel to nobody on the balcony. “A Marquess, huh? Is your father a Duke or did you win a title at the border?”

          “Both, actually,” James replied, his head reeling at the sudden change in topic. The prince didn't seem to care about the incredibly outdated rivalry between their kingdoms, which was incredibly convenient, all considering. “My several greats grandfather was once king, but we still hold a rather sizable duchy near the capitol.”

          “Hm, fascinating.” Tony strode back onto the balcony, a set of fine linen sheets piled in his arms. He shot Bucky a rather strange look before dumping them at his feet then turning on his heel to go back inside. “Stop kneeling like that, forcing me to observe court manners at such an hour is practically criminal.”

          Bucky stood, feeling lost and not at all enjoying the feeling. “Your Majesty, what-”

          “Really?” The prince interrupted in a haughty drawl, “If you’re going to call me anything, you’re calling me Tony. People who prevent my untimely death get that supreme honor.”

          “Ah, alright,” Bucky just really couldn’t seem to find his footing in this conversation. “Call me Bucky then, James is what my mother calls me when she’s angry.” This earned him a huff of laughter from inside and he grinned, allowing himself this moment of levity. “My question, Tony, is what exactly are you doing?”

          Tony reappeared, with yet more linens gathered in his arms. He dumped them on the pile with a huff, looking irritated that Bucky wasn’t keeping up. “ _We_ are going to rip these up to make a rope. I can’t exactly leave my chambers without alerting the guards, and I have no idea who - if anyone - Obadiah has turned against me.” He tossed a sheathed knife to Bucky, startling him into clumsily catching it. “You’ve been at the front for a while, I’m sure you know how to use that.”

          Bucky cast a critical eye over the ornamental pommel of the knife, wondering at the sharpness of the blade. “Don’t you have secret tunnels in the walls or something?” He asked, testing the edge against one of the sheets. “The emergency ones that only the King knows about and the like?”

          “Those only exist in the storybooks, Bucky,” Tony corrected him with thinly veiled amusement. “We’ve only got until dawn, so get to work!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, catch me on [tumblr](https://nativemossy.tumblr.com/), [pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/nativemossy), or [dreamwidth](https://nativemossy.dreamwidth.org/)
> 
> like I said before, all the fic is written i've just split it up. See y'all in a few days!


	2. Despair, The State Falls This Eve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We need your help putting down an assassination attempt, maybe a possible coup.”  
> Rhodes paused on his way into the parlor, tensing for a moment then forcing himself to relax. “Oh? Is that all?”

          “So who are we visiting, exactly?”

          “Don’t worry! My Rhodey is the most trustworthy man in this kingdom! He’d be the last person to betray me, trust me.”

          Bucky glanced at Tony, skepticism written all over his face. “You said that of Obadiah as well before you got proof.”

          Tony looked hurt, his hand dropping from where it had been about to grasp the heavy brass knocker on the door. “Yes, well, I suppose it was naive of me to think that I could possibly trust the man who practically raised me. How silly.”

          Before Bucky could respond to that (And how would he? Apologize? Explain that historically when a Regent takes power they like to keep it? Stay silent until they either forgot the conversation or a new one arose?) the door swung open, revealing an exhausted man in a rumpled general’s uniform. He frowned down at the pair, focusing especially on Tony.

          "Tones, what did you do.” He didn’t even ask, just stated it like it was a fact. Bucky would have laughed at the way Tony bristled in offence if the circumstances of the visit hadn’t kept him from doing so.

          “Firstly, I did nothing, this time around,” Tony began, stepping past the man who Bucky assumed was General James Rhodes, whom Tony had described on the way out of the castle. General Rhodes looked rather resigned to the king barging his way into his private home, even going so far as to usher Bucky in after him. “Secondly, we need your help putting down an assassination attempt, maybe a possible coup.”

          Rhodes paused on his way into the parlor, tensing for a moment then visibly forcing himself to relax. “Oh? Is that all?” He asked, sitting in a worn but comfortable looking chair, motioning for Tony and Bucky to sit. The two must be close, Bucky realized, considering the General had kept to very few of the formalities with a king-to-be in his home.

          Tony sobered, leaning forward with his elbows propped on his knees. “Obadiah has a plan to poison me. We need him to believe that he succeeded.”

          “And how is that going to help put down a coup?”

          “We’re guessing that the people in on this plan is minimal, a handful of nobles if that,” Bucky cut in, squaring his shoulders as both eyes were on him. “If we let Obadiah think he’s won he’ll make moves to seize power in the panic that’ll follow. After going to all the trouble of murdering the Prince, I’m sure he won’t bother with following the line of succession.” That was another conversation that was had on the way to Rhodes’ home - should Tony pass without an heir his crown would pass to Duchess Carter, wherein it would pass to her eldest and so on. The Stark kingdom had a rather peculiar line of succession, where adoption and surrogacy were valid, women could directly inherit hereditary titles, and men could marry each other. Buchanan had quite a ways to catch up, though Bucky was sure that Steve had someone somewhere working on it.

          “So you’re thinking of giving him just enough rope to hang himself?” Rhodes confirmed, looking slightly reassured when Tony began nodding.

          “Yeah, even if he manages to wait through the mourning period to find some way to take the crown, it never looks good when a dead prince comes back to life.” Tony added, looking far more gleeful than he had any right to.

          Rhodes leaned back in his chair, looking between Bucky and Tony with a thoughtful look. After a moment he sighed, then put his head in his hands. “What do you need me to do, specifically?” He asked, looking up from between his fingers.

          “I need you to figure out who’s still loyal and get them ready. He plans to kill me tomorrow night, so I figure a day or so should be plenty to give Obie to make an ass of himself.” Tony looked far too calm to be discussing his impending assassination. Were any strangers to walk by and hear they might assume he was talking about the weather, or by the wry twist of his lips about some lord or lady’s minor social faux pas. “When we make our reveal I need you all ready to arrest Obadiah and prevent any uprisings that might break out from those loyal to him.”

          Rhodes considered this for a moment, nodding his head back and forth in a thoughtful gesture. “So what’s your end of the plan here, Tones? How are you going to convince the crazy bastard you’re dead without actually dying?”

          Tony looked a bit sheepish at that, rubbing the back of his neck with a light flush that had no business looking as cute as it did. “Do you remember that play about the star crossed lovers? The ones that committed suicide in the tomb together?”

          Rhodes rolled his eyes, shaking his head with a silent huff of laughter. “How could I forget it? You were sobbing on my shoulder the whole time, it was incredibly unbecoming of a future king.”

          “Yes, well, anyhow, the lady first fakes her death with a tonic from the Friar. It puts her into a sleep so deep it's as if she’s dead. I’m going to visit an old friend and see if we can’t get anything like that.”

          Rhodes looked more and more skeptical with every word, causing Tony to shrink back into the cushion of his seat. “Yeah? And what if this potion doesn’t exist in real life? What then?”

          Tony rolled his eyes, rubbing at his temple with poorly restrained nerves. “Then I’ll have to take my chances with Obadiah, and you’ll need to send a troop to defend my aunt. Make sure she is kept abreast of the situation.”

          Rhodes looked like he was going to protest again and Bucky sighed; they really didn’t have the time to squabble about this, dawn was just a few scant hours away. “Look, I get that you’re concerned, but time is of the essence here and we have a considerable advantage. It’s better we try and fail than not try at all.” Feeling a little bold, he continued. “Had this information not come to light Tony would have been dead anyway.”

          Rhodes shot a dark look his way, looking venomous in a way that Bucky knew was hiding genuine fear. “And just why are you here again? You don’t even have a stake in this.”

          “No, I don’t.” Bucky began, feeling like he should have been asked this sooner. “But I’d hate to see an innocent man die, and I’d like to think that if I’ve been taught anything it would be to alert someone before their untimely assassination.” Rhodes held his gaze for a while longer, scanning his face. After a few seconds, he leaned back, looking approving. Bucky sighed, feeling like he had just narrowly passed a test.

          “Fine, go talk to your apothecary friend,” Rhodes took a second to slant a look at Tony, giving Bucky the impression that he hadn’t known Tony knew an apothecary until that moment. “I’ll make the rounds to those who we can trust. I’m sure you have a way of making it back to your places by dawn?”

          “We’ll be fine getting back into the castle,” Tony began, looking sheepish when Rhodes shot him a glare. “But do you have any spare travelling cloaks? If we’re going to go unseen we’ll need to look the part.”

          “I don’t know if I should be proud of you for thinking this through or insulted that you think my clothes are so plain.” Rhodes stood, gesturing for the pair to follow him to a back room. “I’ll give you a cloak if you promise to return it.” He turned around with one in hand, the dull brown looking homely and out of place in Tony’s hand when he went to grab it. “Which means no dying until you give it back, got it?”

          Tony looked misty-eyed for a moment, gazing up at Rhodes with the love and admiration that only lifelong friends could have for each other. “Got it.”

* * *

 

          “Yinsen….. Yinsen…!” Tony hissed, visibly doing his best to knock softly on the oak door. When a few moments of silence followed he began to look consideringly at the shuttered windows, his hand raising up just as the door swung open on silent hinges. There stood an extraordinarily tired looking man in his pajamas, looking justifiably surprised to see the prince standing on his doorway at such a late hour. He made to bow before Tony protested, waving his arms wildly in an attempt to get him to stop. “Yes, yes, yes, I get it! You’re very pleased to have me, now please let us inside?! I don’t want anyone to see us.” Yinsen looked mystified for a moment, rubbing his eyes while opening the door wider without a word to let the men in.

          He welcomed the pair into his kitchen, making towards the teapot before Tony beckoned him away from it and towards the squat table in the corner. “It is, of course, a great honor to host you, your Majesty, no matter what hour it may be. However, I get the idea that you might be here for something specific?” He looked askance at Tony, fiddling with the ring around his finger in a nervous gesture.

          “Yes, well,” Tony didn’t look quite remorseful, but he was somewhere close to it. “I need you to craft me a sleeping tonic. Something strong enough that I would appear dead.” The whole room sat in silence for a long moment, Yinsen looking shocked and ill.

          “Your Highness, with all respect, if you wanted to avoid your duties you could just postpone any discussion of ascension and marriage for a few more years. There’s no need for all this-”

          “It’s not a matter of me avoiding my duties, it’s more rather an issue of someone trying to forcefully prevent me from ever attending them again.” Tony interrupted, looking vaguely insulted and slightly panicked. “Look, Yinsen, we just need to know if this is possible and if you can do it. If not we’ll return to the castle and you can go about your business.”

          Yinsen looked green, then seemed to actually ponder the request, staring up at the jars and vials that lined the shelves. He was quiet for a long moment, but he spoke before Bucky could start really panicking. “I can make what you ask, but it’ll take me a moment.” He tacked on, seemingly when Bucky and Tony were beginning to look a little too excited.

          “Alright, we can wait a little while,” Bucky said, looking at Tony out of the corner of his eye. He seemed a bit nervous but was hiding it well. “You’re sure that it won’t kill him when he takes it?”

          “So long as it’s sufficiently diluted,” Yinsen began, pulling a small bottle of red liquid and a stoppered vial of clear fluid off the shelves, looking nervous just to be touching them. “Ideally in water, but watered down wine or brandy could do it as well. It’s a very powerful mixture, so the less you consume the better your chances are.”

          “If we dilute it too much won’t it stop working?” Tony questioned, his nerves playing out on his face.

          “Trust me Highness, just a drop of this is enough to kill a full grown man, it being too diluted is the least of your concerns.” Yinsen said, producing a new glass bottle from a drawer. He tilted the first bottle to the rim, dropping just a few drops in. He carefully recorked it and set it aside. He repeated the process with the clear, then delicately returned them both to their places on the shelf. He swilled the mixture around the bottom of the bottle for a long moment, then sighed and corked it.

          “This should be more than enough, so have a care when using it.” He warned, quickly grabbing a stick of wax and sealing off the top. He passed the bottle to Tony with a small bow, his face looking tight and drawn.

          “Thank you, Yinsen,” Tony said sincerely, gently tucking the bottle into the interior pocket of his cloak.

          “Please,” Yinsen began, sinking into the chair and rubbing at his face with shaking hands. “Don’t thank me for this.”

* * *

 

          The sun was just beginning to rise as Bucky helped Tony scale the courtyard wall. Bucky had to give the prince credit for attempting the climb under his own power, but a few near misses lead Bucky to lower their makeshift linen rope and hand-over-hand lift him up. They were both a little flushed, and Bucky did his best to ignore how pretty Tony’s face was in the pink hue of the rising dawn. His hair was even more of a mess than before, what with the activity of the night and the exertion, and it was a tousled adorable mess.

          “Well, here you go,” Tony said, holding out the bottle of tonic. Bucky stared at it for a moment, more than a little dumbfounded and still trying to think with his brain instead of his libido.

          “Huh?” He intelligently blubbered, watching Tony’s face morph from angelic rumpled beauty to disappointed and tired in the span of a few seconds.

          “Well, I can’t exactly poison myself, now can I?” Tony asked, amusement fighting for its place on his lovely face. “Either you or Rhodey are going to need to take that into my study as late as you can to make sure that Obie has already been around. Pitch the brandy in the decanter on my desk and replace it with stuff laced with this.” He shook the bottle slightly as he said it, still held between them. “I’m sure that between you both you can find another bottle of brandy somewhere.”

          Bucky nodded, nimbly taking the bottle and tucking it into his waistcoat. “Well then….” He trailed off, feeling suddenly a little awkward with no task to soften the air between them. “I’ll see you later then? At the ball?”

          Tony’s face softened, looking inordinately fond for such a quick moment that Bucky would have missed it if he hadn’t been watching so close. “Of course.” Bucky nodded, feeling reassured as he hiked his leg over the railing of the balcony. Just as he was to make his way down the wall he heard a throat clearing, then turned back towards Tony. “Save a dance for me?”

          Bucky watched the prince’s face flush, feeling rather warm in the face himself. “Of course,” he replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, you can find me on [tumblr](https://nativemossy.tumblr.com/), [pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/nativemossy), or [dreamwidth](https://nativemossy.dreamwidth.org/)!
> 
> I'll be back in a couple days to wrap this up, see you then!


	3. Exit, The Nobleman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Please rise, Bu- ahem, Lord James.” Tony fumbled. When Bucky looked up, Tony's face was stony as if nothing happened, but the redness that flooded the tips of his ears gave him away. Bucky tried to give off a reassuring air but was sure it fell flat, unable to do much in a hall full of people waiting for him to slip up. Bucky belatedly remembered that he had been given an order and staggered to his feet, hearing a few people at the edge of the hall snicker softly.

          Once he returned to his rooms (after a terrifying near-miss with a maid in one of the hallways) the day passed in relative calmness. The castle itself was abuzz with activity - staff and servants were running around making final preparations, the cooks were all busy with the evening meal, and there was a whole bevy of both foreign and domestic dignitaries that were arriving and required help settling in. Sequestered in his little bubble of calm, Bucky watched through his window as it all passed him by, allowing himself to bask in the calm before the political firestorm that was going to be the following few days.

          When the sun began to sink below the palace walls he turned away from the window and instead faced his wardrobe, grabbing the court suit that he had packed for the occasion. He had brought three for all three nights of the ball, but as it stood it was likely he would only need the one. He chose his best, a blue ensemble that many people much more knowledgeable than him about such things had told him looked great with his eyes. 

          He was only allowed a ceremonial sword within the palace gates, so he strapped his to his belt. It was a borrowed piece from Steve, who inherited it from a distant uncle, and so on and so on. He was sure that it was wrought for some fabulously titled peer who did something great, but all Bucky knew it as was a useless hunk of metal. Nothing was more ridiculous to him than a sword that was crafted without the intent for it to be used. He would have much rather had his trusty sword, but Steve had asked him to leave it behind as an act of goodwill. The fancy paperweight would just have to do.

          Musings aside, he was dressed in plenty of time, enough that he could be politely early and avoid the crowd that would be waiting at the doors for their turn to be introduced formally to the Prince.

          He paused at that, though the thought didn’t occur to him quite fast enough. He was in front of the opulent doors that marked the ballroom and a stern, stout looking man stared him down, frowning slightly. “Your name, My Lord?”

          “Uh,” Bucky paused, panicking and losing his thoughts, “Jame- ah, Marquess James of The Northern March, representing King Steven of Buchanan.” He stammered out, feeling wrongfooted. The man squinted up at him, looking both peeved at Bucky’s seeming incompetence and skeptical as to his rank.

          “Hmph.” He snorted, turning on his heel and retreating into the ballroom. After a moment the doors swung open, revealing a beautiful sight. The opulence of the white walls, with gilded accents and painted ceilings, was outshined by the man who stood in the center of it all. Seated on a golden throne was Tony himself, wearing a sinfully red court suit and a smile. His hair had been washed and combed, and shone brightly in the lights of the room. He wore a pair of trousers that left absolutely nothing to the imagination, and Bucky was torn between being grateful for the fashion of the day and wanting to jealously guard Tony for himself.

          He stepped forward, coming to the foot of the dais and kneeling, hand on his heart. He waited for Tony to either acknowledge or dismiss him, his heart in his throat. He could hear the murmurs of the other nobles that lined the hall, probably all with some comment on his dress, or his hair, or the way he walked. The social aspect of these events was enough to drive one mad, let alone when you threw politics in the mix. It was no wonder why Steve wanted Bucky to go for him. 

          “Please rise, Bu- ahem, Lord James.” Tony fumbled.  When Bucky looked up, Tony's face was stony as if nothing happened, but the redness that flooded the tips of his ears gave him away . Bucky tried to give off a reassuring air but was sure it fell flat, unable to do much in a hall full of people waiting for him to slip up. Bucky belatedly remembered that he had been given an order and staggered to his feet, hearing a few people at the edge of the hall snicker softly. “On behalf of my people, I thank you and your country for your continuing loyalty. May friendship prosper between us forevermore.” 

          Bucky held back an eye roll at the incredibly formal language, almost certain that Tony was overcompensating for his first blunder. He stood, taking the words for the dismissal that they were, but caught Tony’s inward wince as he passed. He didn’t laugh but tried to smile reassuringly as he was enveloped into the crowd.

          Dozens of perfumes mixed cloyingly in the air, making Bucky’s head spin as he pushed his way through the throng of people. He was intercepted by a lady in yellow as he made his way to the far wall, her eyes sparkling up at him as she passed over a wine glass. “Did you see the king’s suit?” She asked, leaning all the way into his personal space. Bucky took a polite step back, taking a bracing sip of wine. 

          “Yes, of course.” He said, trying to politely look anywhere but at her. He had to find Rhodes, he really didn’t have the time to play dignitary. “It was a lovely suit, now if you’ll excuse me-”

          “It’s my design, you see,” She began, darting a hand out to pinch at the fabric of his own jacket. “This isn’t bad, but you could really do with some variance in your colors. A slate blue is alright for winter but for spring and summer events you should really consider something brighter.” Bucky wrenched his head back down to look at her, shocked both by her forward manner and the strength of the hand gripping his sleeve. “There’s a lot a talented seamstress can do with silk floss; your wardrobe would really benefit from something more charming. Flowers are popular right now but I’m sure some patterns could be lifted from some vintage brocade - some people like the refined look, you know?”

          No, Bucky did not know, but he had spotted Rhodes at the other end of the ballroom so he offered a hurried farewell before slinking over to the general, trying to make it seem natural and inconspicuous. Rhodes caught his eye and without breaking from his conversation he nodded to the wall a few feet from him, an obvious request for Bucky to wait. Bucky nodded in return, putting his back to the cool stone and watching the ballroom. 

          Tony was still painfully rolling his way through introductions, a strained smile on his handsome face. Obadiah stood at his shoulder, having appeared there in the interim between Bucky’s greeting and then. He stood stock still, looking cool as a cucumber and twice as smug. As the murmur of voices in the hall rose to a small din he watched as Obadiah leaned down, whispering directly into Tony’s ear. He straightened up and Tony nodded, not even glancing back at him as he left the hall. At that Bucky glanced away again, not wanting to look more interested than he should in the proceedings.

          “You know, you could stand to look a little more enthused to be here.” A voice drawled to Bucky’s left, startling him out of his thoughts. He turned to see Rhodes, a practically untouched glass of wine in his hand. He raised an eyebrow at Bucky’s surprise, joining him on the wall.

          “To be fair, the chances of a marquess marrying a crown prince is slim to none, barring some very specific situations. Even if Tony is permitted to marry a man, my being here is just a formality.” That hurt to say, even if it was true. If asked he would lie until the day he died, but the afternoon after their adventure that morning may or may not have been passed in a drowsy haze of imagining an opulent wedding followed by a honeymoon spent on indulgent outings and snuggling in sunbeams. Judging by Rhodes’ sympathetic look he was picking up on a bit of the looning. Bucky shook himself out of his melancholy, deftly reaching into the pocket of his coat and palming the bottle. After a quick glance around the room, he passed it off to Rhodes, making the exchange look like a friendly handshake.

          “I don’t recall this being in the plan.” Rhodes said as he pocketed the glass.

          “Plans had to change; it’ll look less suspicious if you go on a patrol than if I decide to wander the halls during one of the most politically advantageous nights of the season.” Rhodes looked surprised at this, and Bucky allowed himself a sigh, taking a sip from his glass. “I think politics are a waste of time, but I do know a thing or two.” 

          Rhodes considered him for a long moment, during which Bucky uncomfortably returned his gaze to the crowd. He watched as pairs of dancers swirled along the dancefloor, making winding, nonsense patterns with their steps.

          He saw a flurry of movement out of the corner of his eye; the introductions were finally done and Obadiah had returned with the exit of the last one, looking just as calm as he had when he left. Bucky elbowed Rhodey in the ribs, getting a dirty look in response. “Now might be a good time to go on patrol, General.” He said, nodding to the King Regent. “You never know who might be wandering the halls unattended.”

          Rhodes followed Bucky’s gaze, grimacing when he caught sight of Obadiah. “Right.” He replied, kicking off the wall and striding purposefully away.

          “Wait-!” Bucky called, trying to keep his voice soft. Rhodes looked back, his eyebrow lifted just slightly. He passed on Tony’s instructions, feeling a mild panic at almost forgetting. Rhodes searched his face for a long moment, then nodded, turning on his heel. Bucky watched him go, feeling his nerves rise for the first time that evening. He took a calming breath, flagging down a waiter who was carrying  hors d’oeuvres on a large silver platter. He swapped his mostly full glass for a few canapes, nodding to the man as he walked away to serve another group of nobles. 

          Several hours passed in much the same way, though occasionally the monotony was broken by comments from the other guests. Tony was the premiere subject for the night, which was quite natural considering it was his ball. The less acceptable part was where everyone seemed to be discussing him like a slab of meat, or a prize steer being put on auction. There were benefits weighed and profits discussed, with alliances called into questions and old conflicts remembered bitterly. Bucky did his best to ignore it, hoping that Tony couldn’t hear them talk about him so, or at the very least had the good sense to ignore it.

          Towards the end of the evening, one bold gentleman invited Bucky back to his apartments, with a hand that skated too low on his spine for Bucky’s comfort. He tightly declined, making his own way to his chambers. He didn’t dwell on it, his mind was abuzz with worries - what was happening to Tony? Had he drunk the brandy? Did Rhodes use the right dose or was Tony dead either way? He had been consumed with anxiety since Tony had left the hall with Obadiah at his heels, bidding the hall a goodnight and welcoming everyone to dance into the early hours of morning, if they pleased. 

          Bucky was not pleased, and he almost regretted declining the man’s companionship for the night. Not that he really had any desire to sleep with him, but any distraction would be welcome at that point. He doubted that he would get much sleep that night, awaiting the announcement that the crown prince had died and the political meltdown that would occur afterward.

          He found himself looking back on the past day, marveling at all that could be packed into such a small period of time. His heart ached when he thought of Tony, staring up from the carpet at the man who raised him, collapsed from poison. He tried not to imagine Obadiah monologuing to a deathly pale Tony, lying gasping for breath with nobody to hear. 

          He tried least of all to imagine how Tony felt - in pain and unsure if he would ever wake again. He tried so hard, and yet all these images and more came to him until he collapsed into bed with a moan of pain. He manfully held back tears, knowing that nothing other than the grace of the gods could help Tony now.

          Bucky couldn’t recall when he fell asleep, but the next thing he knew he was waking up, starfished on the bed. Judging by the light in the window he had been allowed to sleep in for a while. He laid there for a moment, staring at the ceiling while all of his worries from the night before trickled back.

          The distant sound of hundreds of people trickled into his ears. He could hear multitudes of soft footsteps - no doubt the steps of the servants of the castle going about their work. There was a fair share of voices and that there was the oddity, servants rarely spoke during their chores. Distraught nobles, however, spoke often and loudly.

          Bucky groaned, levering himself out of bed. He dressed sedately, being sure to strap his overly-fancy sword to his hip before he left. He wound a meandering path through the halls, knowing what he would be met with but dreading it all the same. There was a smattering of royal guards and soldiers around every corner, and each looked at him with poorly guarded suspicion and hate. He did his best not to take it seriously.

          He strode into the grand throne room, feeling his nerves rise further when he spotted the crowd there. He wasn’t sure why or how everyone knew to gather there, but he was assuming that the more important nobles were roused and summoned. He stuck to the edges, watching everyone gaze tensely at each other and the empty throne that stood like an accusation before them.

          “As I’m sure you’ve all heard,” a voice boomed, startling everyone. “Crown Prince Tony was fatally poisoned.” Obadiah strode into view, looking sharp, commanding, and not at all grief-stricken in a pristine suit. Bucky felt bile rise in his throat - disturbed at how this man could believe he killed another and still stand to proudly before a crowd. 

          “Now, this was no mere accident,” he continued, placing a bold hand on the arm of the throne. “This was an assassination.” At this he cast his eyes about the room, focusing on a few choice people. He stopped at Bucky for a moment, long enough that others began to notice and look back at him. Just when Bucky was beginning to panic he looked away, leaving Bucky to heave a sigh of relief. So that was his plan, sow the seeds of distrust and when everyone was all shaken up he would take power then. Bucky wouldn’t be surprised at all if he launched an attack against the Kingdom Buchanan; the tense air between the kingdoms would be half a reason on its own.

          “You are all, of course, free to leave in the wake of this disaster. However,” He paused, taking another long look in Bucky’s direction. “The perpetrators will be found, and we will take retribution in full.”

          Yeah, Bucky knew exactly what game Obadiah was playing. It was fortunate that they were nipping this in the bud before it got out of hand; that would have been a hard one to explain to Steve. Bucky felt his spine uncurl when Obadiah left, looking incredibly self-satisfied with that parting shot. Several people left the hall as he did, chatting lowly about preparing carriages and inns to stay in. He stuck around for a while, spotting a guard and sidled over to him.

          “Do you know if anyone is sitting vigil over the prince?” He asked, trying to appear casual. The guard squinted suspiciously at him, glaring past the rim of his helm.

          “General Rhodes is watching over His Majesty, though why you needed to know is beyond me.” He shifted his grip on his spear a few times, giving the exits of the room a quick glance. “We have the King Regent protected at all times, so don’t even think of trying anything funny, y’hear?”

          Bucky resisted the urge to cause a fuss about the rude language. A knight speaking to a member of the peerage in that way was unacceptable - dead prince or no. He settled for turning away without a reply, knowing that any further drama now could throw off the plan even further.

          He passed the day once again alone in his rooms. His thoughts were no longer filled with the hazy future that he would never see - instead, it was filled with war and blood, recast memories of his time at the front. Just this time, instead of Hydra it was the Kingdom Stark, with Obadiah at its helm. Black uniforms transformed to red, and all throughout Tony’s voice echoed in his head, reminding him of all he promised and all that he failed to deliver. By the time he had run through the fantasy a few times through it ended with Buchanan being crushed between Hydra and Stark, and Obadiah somehow being murdered by the lady in the yellow dress with her hatpin. That last part was enough of a twist that he fell out of his own mind for long enough to realize that it was almost dinnertime.

          Originally there had been a formal dinner planned in order to display to the king the impeccable table manners of his prospective suitors. This occasion, however, would be much more somber. Bucky dressed in his darkest suit to follow mourning protocol as close as he could. 

          He walked on heavy legs into the ballroom, seeing the table filled with the spread the cooks had been working so hard on the past few days. There were only a few seats left, so Bucky quickly moved to sit down, near the farthest end of the table from the head. 

          Obadiah sat there, looking as pleased as the cat who got the cream. Bucky felt his lip curling. He knew Obadiah was low, but he didn’t think it would be quite this bad - taking the prince’s seat at the table not even a full day after his death? It was unspeakable. Bucky wouldn’t be surprised if Obadiah had already crowned himself in the privacy of his own rooms.

          “I wouldn’t sit down if I were you.” Bucky glanced up towards the Regent, feeling his brow furrow as the guards at his shoulders stepped away from him. “This shouldn’t take long. Arrest him.”

          Bucky felt his jaw drop, quickly scrambling away from the table. “Arrested? For what?”

          “The assassination of the prince!” Obadiah boomed, looking grimly satisfied as the guards posted at the doors closed ranks. “You’ve conspired against the Kingdom Stark and for that Buchanan will pay! First with your life, then your borders.”

          Bucky felt a mounting horror with every word he spoke. Not only was his grand plan to seize power under a false threat, but he was going to target Bucky’s country to do it. He settled his hand on his sword, thumbing at where the pommel met the sheath. 

          Just before he felt the need to draw and fight there was a commotion near one of the doors, with voices raising just slightly in surprise and anger. A cry of relief rang clear before all fell to silence, and Rhodes strode through, leading a slightly sick looking Tony by the arm. 

          Bucky felt his breath leave him in a whoosh, feeling slightly giddy at the sight of him. He was dressed in full regalia, looking quite dashing in a full cape. Bucky heard the velvet swish as he made his slow way across the floor, trailing his fingers over the back of chairs as he went. He came to stand next to Bucky and the two flabbergasted guards. A long beat passed while the whole hall processed who was in front of them, then they all stood up, nearly entirely at once. Bucky wanted to laugh but was too busy making sure his feet remained underneath him. 

          “Obie.” Tony said, all the warmth in his voice entirely fake. “You’ve been busy.” Bucky watched as Obadiah went pale, the skin around his knuckles going white as he clenched his fists. Tony flashed him a smile and turned to the crowd, looking out at them with a passive levity. Bucky could see through the act, but just barely. 

          Tony snagged the chair that Bucky intended to sit in, pulling it back and sitting heavily down. He motioned to everyone else to sit down as well, smiling tiredly as they did. He looked imploringly first at Rhodes, then back at Bucky, pouting a little when he saw that neither would budge. Bucky huffed a bit, then stepped up to Tony’s shoulder, earning a weak smile in reply.

          “Sorry for the scare everyone, I’m alright, just a bit tired. Thankfully I had a few hours advanced warning before my untimely death.” There was an uneasy murmur of laughter throughout the room; Obadiah was looking sicker by the second. 

          “You see, Lord Obadiah here decided that a few years as King Regent wasn’t enough. Can’t say I’m surprised - that’s how these things go, I suppose.” He shared a flat look with Rhodes; Bucky got the distinct impression that there had been a conversation between them about the inevitability of this. “So instead of telling me when the love had grown stale he decided he’d up and kill me - the same crime, I might add, that he planned to pin on Lord James here.” Bucky felt all eyes go to him and went a little pink, feeling embarrassment rise above his indignant anger. 

          “So, by some crazy happenstance, Lord James happened to hear him discussing his plan, and managed to collect this.” Tony reached into the folds of his cape, into his coat, and pulled out the slip of paper that Bucky had stolen barely two days ago. “This is a receipt for a colorless, flavorless, undetectable poison. One that was intended to kill me last night.” He tossed the paper on the table with a sense of finality. Bucky felt like he should have been kicking his boots up next to it to maximize the air of casual certainty. “Only it didn’t, because I used that convenient warning to get something a little less potent instead.”

          He paused to make eye contact with Obadiah, his eyes hard and flinty. “I gave him just enough leeway to show his hand.” He raised an eyebrow, looking playfully disappointed. “Pinning the blame on Buchanan? Really? That trade skirmish is decades old by now and fairly obviously a mistake on both sides. That reasoning for an assassination is flimsy at best.” He looked away, doing his best to remain casually calm. “I think that should be sufficient. Guards?” 

          The two nearest Stane sprung to action, grabbing him roughly out of his chair. Obadiah sneered with poorly disguised hate but went calmly lax in the guards’ hold. “I should have done us all a favor and tossed you down a staircase as a boy.” 

          Tony was doing his best to keep a brave face, but as Obadiah was dragged away Bucky saw his face break open, grief and anger and sadness written all over it. His heart ached in reply, but he kept his place; it would be untoward to comfort him here.

          After the swift arrest of Lord Obadiah, the following events moved rather quickly. The remaining foreign visitors (barring Bucky, of course) were sent home, with generous apology gifts to take home. The few (and he meant few, just a handful really) of Obadiah’s supporters were very quickly ousted and removed, drawing a swift close to the situation at large. 

          Days later, Bucky had yet to leave the castle, and was enjoying the late afternoon sun on the balcony of his rooms. He was faced away from the castle, letting the rays warm his face.

          “So, have you had enough adventure for a lifetime?” 

          “For the next few months at least, by then I’ll be back to the front and sick of it again.” Bucky grinned, charmed with Tony’s easy banter. Tony smiled sunnily back, looking easy and lax in a casual suit, sans jacket.

          “So I don’t suppose you’d be open to giving up the boring life of a Marquess, then?” He asked, his eyes glinting merrily in the fading light.

          Bucky paused, gripping the edge of the balcony under his palms. “What do you mean?”

          He watched out of the corner of his eye as Tony stepped forward, turning opposite of Bucky to lean back on his elbows. He was futzing with something in his pocket, probably one of the many oddities Bucky had found that he liked to play with in his spare time. 

          “Oh, I don’t know,” Tony was trying for a casual tone, “maybe a change of pace? A different position, perhaps?”

          Tony pulled his hand from his pocket, extending it to Bucky with practiced ease. Resting in his palm was a small, unassuming gold ring. Bucky felt his breath catch.

          “This is-?”

          “Marry me?” Tony asked, no, implored, staring up at Bucky with a fragile smile. Bucky did his best to smile back, feeling hot under his collar and knowing it wasn’t from the evening sun.

          “Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so thats a wrap! thanks to everyone who left kudos/comments/bookmarked this, I really hope you enjoyed it! as per usual, you can catch me on [tumblr](https://nativemossy.tumblr.com/), [pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/nativemossy), or [dreamwidth](https://nativemossy.dreamwidth.org/)


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